Page 33 of Lies and Other Drugs

"I don't think we've had the chance to properly meet," I said with a smirk. At that, Samuel dug the gun further into my chest, almost enough that it truly did hurt. I knew that a bruise would probably form tomorrow, and I leaned back to ease some of the pressure. "I'm Octavia Wilson," I said through gritted teeth.

"I know who you are," he said, his voice dark for a moment before he slipped back into his easy-going grin. For someone having a standoff with a gun-wielding lunatic, he sure didn't seem bothered or phased. Oh. Maybe that was because the gun was currently lodged intomychest. Or maybe because, like me, he’d assumed that Samuel was all talk. "I just figured maybe if I showed up here, Sam over there would finally pay me that money he owes," he added with a threatening growl.

Samuel finally dropped his arm, and the relief was palpable, blood rushed to the area where he was pressing the metal against me. Samuel looked like he was about to take a step towards Renon, but he stopped to look at me. Raising his free hand, he delivered a weak but clipped backhanded slap that made me want to show him how a real man hits. I didn't even have time to throw him a defiant expression.

I've been hit many times in my life. Sometimes they were painful, and sometimes they were like this. But one thing was always for certain. The trick to being hit was to go with the fall. If you braced yourself, it always ended up hurting more. But if you moved with the hit, if you reacted with instinctive fluidity, the pain wouldn't be as intense. I was used to bracing myself, been doing it my whole life. So luckily for me, Samuel was a weak prick that couldn't follow through on his threats, nor could he follow through on his hits. He hesitated just before his skin connected with mine. "You hit like a pussy," I said in a bored tone while rubbing my cheek.

Samuel looked stuck between wanting to hit me again and wanting to address Renon the Drug Dealer. "I don't know what it is about you rich boys always falling behind on your debts," Renon said, taking control of the conversation once more. "It's the people that have all the money in the world that seem the most unwilling to part with it. Sixty thousand, Smith. Now."

Samuel tilted his head in that manic way I knew meant nothing good. "Actually, I'm starting to think there's an easier way to solve this." In a painfully predictable move, Samuel lifted his gun and pointed it at Renon's head. I wondered then if he was a good shot.

"Predictable," I said with an exasperated sigh, and Renon the Drug Dealer then snapped his eyes to me in amusement instead of focusing on the gun being pointed at him. Was I supposed to be more cautious about this situation? Social norms weren't really my forte.

"She's a firecracker, that one," Renon the Drug Dealer said, his voice equal parts shocked and disbelieving. I kind of liked that I was keeping him entertained. Might as well make the last moments of our lives entertaining. Besides, I was competitive. He couldn’t be the coolest person in the room. I was the one not supposed to give a fuck.

That was about when Samuel lost it. I wasn't sure if it was because we weren't showing him the fear he craved, or if it was because he was just desperate for blood. But unlike with me, Samuel pulled back the safety of Mrs. Mulberry's gun and pressed on the trigger. There was a flash, a bang, the whole deal. I expected blood splatters and crumpling bodies. Screams. It was me screaming—more because I felt like Ishouldand not because I actually felt shocked. But Renon the Drug Dealer didn't fall. He didn't clutch his chest like they did in movies. He smiled. "Shooting blanks, Samuel?" he asked. "You always were all talk."

Motherfucking Mulberry. I poured out her alcohol. She put blanks in my—I meanhergun.

I laughed, a sad sort of manic laugh but a laugh all the same.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Samuel asked before turning to me, as if it weremyfault the gun I stole, which he then stole, was ineffective.

"Ah, Mrs. Mulberry. Always the prankster," I looked up at the ceiling and pointed, pissing off Samuel even more. Now Ireallywasn't afraid of him. There were footsteps approaching outside. Concerned voices. People heard the pretend shot, and Samuel was holding the gun. Renon the Drug Dealer reached in his holster hidden in his denim jeans and pulled out his own weapon, one that I was ten thousand percent sure was very real andverylethal. Now we were talking!

"We're leaving. You're not going to say shit. You know we have enough on you to make your cock-sucking father more ashamed of you than he already is," he said with a cruel smile. Samuel simply stared at us as Renon opened the window and crawled out. I stood there for a moment longer, contemplating the benefits of getting caught.

"Hey, Wilson," Renon the Drug Dealer called to me while holding his hand out for mine through the open window. I kind of liked how he called me by my last name, but also kind of hated it. "You don't want to play on his turf. They can afford to cover shit up here," he said.

Good point. So this guy was smart. A drug dealer, but smart. A cocky, sexy drug dealing asshole, but smart.

“Alright, Renon the Drug Dealer. Let’s go.”

Chapter 21

He drove a sexy car I didn't know the name of. It looked like the typical bad boy ride, the black paint and leather interior had probably seen more orgasms than I had. It was completely ostentatious and ridiculous for New York. Who actually owned a car and lived in the city?

I settled into the passenger seat with a smile, which contradicted how I was processing things on the inside. Samuel fucking Smith. That murdering bastard. That pansy-ass elitist prick. I wasn't too bothered by the fact that he and I had sex. He didn't really mean anything to me. What bothered me was how right he was. I hated that there wasn't just one person to blame.

And one of the men that deserved a middle finger pointed at him was currently situated next to me in the driver's seat. "You knew who I was at the restaurant?" I asked. I caught him glancing at me from the corner of his eye, and instead of answering me with the confidence he had in front of Samuel, he simply nodded.

"And Samuel owes you money?" I asked.

"He owes me a fucking lot," he answered. I watched as his grip tightened around the steering wheel. He was strong, yes. He also had that broody attitude I found irresistible in men. I liked people that felt more than I could.

"You feel bad for William's death?" I asked. I expected him to give me some bullshit condolences about how he never intended for it to happen. But instead, he laughed. He fuckinglaughed.

"No," he said between chuckles. "I stopped feeling bad for shit a long time ago, lady. Samuel didn't take my warning, and your brother took the pills.The only thing I take is money.”

Hmm, how...refreshing. At least he wasn't bullshitting me like the rest of the world. So he was a narcissistic, honest asshole. My blood pulsed, and I clenched my thighs. I had a type, apparently. And that type was “fucked up.”

"Where am I taking you?" he asked, and for once, I didn't know the answer. If I went back to the hotel, then I'd have to face Noah, and considering he was the only person that I actually cared about, that option seemed incredibly unappealing. I could go to Young, I could tell him that his best friend is a backstabbing, selfish, murderous twat waffle. But that seemed premature. Samuel would have likely already concocted some story about how I attacked him. And since I didn't necessarily make my plans to murder someone a secret, he'd believe him.

"Where do you live?" I asked with a grimace.

Again, he laughed. I was starting to like the sound of it. "I'm not taking you whereIlive. I don't really owe you anything. And if I'm being honest, you seem like one of those crazy chicks that would have my name tattooed on her cunt by the third date."

Now it was my turn to laugh. He couldn't be more wrong even if he tried. I didn't do the clingy shit. Or the relationship shit. Or anything that could tie me to anyone. Not since William died. This entire world was temporary. I'd never give someone the power to hurt me like William did. Never. Attachments made people weak.

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